


blue paint

by queensimmons



Series: Writing Everyday [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Babysitting, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Grandparents, Kid Fic, Papa Coulson, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, mama may
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 07:31:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14015316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queensimmons/pseuds/queensimmons
Summary: blue paint, hand-prints, an airplaneMay and Coulson offer to babysit the kids on a storming night.





	blue paint

**Author's Note:**

> hello yes jcmmavclours if you're reading this hi its me, I'm terrible. i fell off the face of the earth and this was in my ask box for probably a year oops. i have no idea what was happening in the show at the time this ask was sent so we're just going to pretend its not in the robot or space dimensions or whatever.

“Are you sure you have everything?” Jemma asks hastily, rummaging through her purse for her keys. The whisper of the cool evening breeze caused a chill to flow down her spine as Fitz opened the door, allowing the gentle thrum of the swollen rain to fill the front room of the quaint scottish cottage. Frustrated, Jemma sighs and shakes her head. “Maybe we should just do this another night Fitz, I can’t find my keys, the girls are still fighting and Alexander-”

“-will be fine Jemma,” her husband finished. “He’s just got a bit of a cold, the doctor said it should pass by tonight, nothing Coulson and May can’t handle, right?” He turns towards the two senior agents, blue eyes all but begging for their answer. It’s FitzSimmons wedding anniversary and their first time getting complete alone time since their 3rd child, Alexander was born. Perthshire was currently experiencing severe rainstorms that were said to pass a week ago, but Fitz had taken it upon himself to make reservations for a quiet little steakhouse just a few miles away.

_“It’s no big deal Fitz, we can celebrate at home!”_

 

_“Jemma, as much as I love you and the kids, if I have to watch one more rerun of My Little Pony I may actually lose it.”_

 

_“But it’ll be raining and it's 12 miles down the road, also it’s going to be crowded Fitz, it’s a Friday night.”_

 

_“Jemma, a little rain and a crowded restaurant is nothing we can’t handle.”_

 

“We got it.” May chimes in, watching as Coulson takes the soft sleeping baby from Fitz’s arms. He bounces the boy around, cooing softly at him. May gives him a look of disapproval, for it did just take 45 minutes to put the baby to sleep.

“What?” Coulson asks. She continues to glare at him. He frowns, and goes back to coddling the baby. “Your _nai nai_ is very grumpy, yes she is, yes she is.”

May turns back to the couple, “Go, enjoy your night.”

Fitz mouths her a ‘thank you’ and gestures for Jemma to walk out the door. She sighs, defeated.

“Fine,” she grumbles. “Amelia and Maisie are having snack in the kitchen, they’re a little cranky and arguing today. Alexander’s medicine and milk bottle is in the fridge, it’s Amy’s turn to pick out the bed time story and-”

“Jemma, we’re going to be late!” Fitz exasperates, shaking his head and making his way towards the car.

“I still don’t have my keys Fitz!” she shouts after him. In response, the violent clatter of dangling metal echoes in the rain as does the classic beep of an unlocked car.

“Okay, okay!”

Jemma quickly slips on her coat and carefully steps out into the rain, mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ before slamming the emerald green door.

The forceful motion shakes the house and suddenly, bright blue eyes are staring up at Coulson, soft peachy features beginning to scrunch up in surprise and confusion. Coulson tries to calm him down but in a split second, it’s too late. A loud, desperate wail spills from the baby’s throat.

“Oh no, don’t cry little man, it’s okay,” Coulson tries. “Shhh, shh, just go back to sleep for a _little_ bit longer for us okay?”

May watches, lips twitching up in slight amusement at Coulson’s failing attempt to soothe the baby. The cries only grow louder and more alarming in return. May extends her arm, nodding to Coulson and he places the crying baby in her warm arms.

“Amy give that back!”

“No it’s my toys! It’s mine!”

Melinda places a hand on the baby’s chest and smiles down on him. She slowly moves back and forth and the crying begins to ease. Phil, in bewilderment, looks towards her in disbelief.

“Fine, you’re better with babies,” he admits. May nods.

“Yes. I am.”

“I’ll go see what the girls are fighting about,” he says. She nods again, soft whispers of _‘hi baby, hi there’_ filling the living room. Coulson makes his way to the kitchen, turning around and smiling at the sight of May and the baby before entering.

And when he does enter, he wishes he hadn’t.

Two cups worth of sticky purple juice covers the entire kiddy table, leaking onto the floor where the bulldog devours what looks like half a turkey sandwich. Amelia and Maisie sit by the back door, both soaking wet in grape juice and goldfish snacks. He watches as they swat at each other, yelling, with a buckets worth of toys surrounding them, yet they seem ever so interested in their scientist barbie.

 

_“What do you think we should get the girls for Christmas this year Fitz? Amelia seems to have taken after you, what about a box of legos?”_

 

_They stroll down the brightly lit toy store, turning the corner into a overwhelmingly pink aisle. Fitz stops, and picks up a Barbie, Jemma rolls her eyes._

 

_“Ugh Fitz, barbie dolls are so generic and don’t really serve a purpose.”_

 

_“They’re dolls, Jemma. I thought you loved dolls as a kid!”_

 

_“My mother was a surgeon, they were anatomy dolls Fitz, not the same thing.”_

 

_He puts the rockstar Barbie back on the shelf and picks up another one in a white box wearing a lab coat and goggles._

 

_“What about her? She looks smart.” Jemma rolls her eyes and puts the toy in the cart. Fitz spots her trying to conceal a smirk._

 

_“Fine.”_

 

“Hey hey hey hey hey, what is going on here?” Coulson questions, ripping off a few paper towels and heading towards the table. He kneels down and begins wiping up the mess when the sound of struggled grunting intensities and then finally, a loud, ear shattering screech. Quickly, his head snaps back to where the girls are sitting. Amelia smiles proudly with the Barbie in her hand, her little sister lays on the floor, crying and kicking.

May walks into the room, arms barren, with an annoyed look on her face.

“I just put the baby down.”

“I know, I know.”

“I thought you said you can handle them.”

“I know, I know, I’m getting to it.”

May shakes her head and mutters something in Chinese under her breath.

“Not appropriate for the ears of children Melinda!” he calls after her.

“Only if they speak Mandarin,” the doors shut behind her.

Coulson rolls his eyes and goes to pick Maisie up off the floor, her screaming turns to crying and when he asks what’s wrong, it turns to pouting.

“A-A-Amy took the d-d-doll from me,” she blubbers.

“It’s my doll!” Amelia retorts.

“I-I-I had it f-f-first!”

Coulson sighs and wipes the tears from Maisie’s eyes.

“Amelia,” Coulson begins, dragging her name out and trailing it.

“No papa Coulson no! It’s not fair!” she pouts as if she already knows his reply.

“But Amelia…”

Then, upset, Amy throws the doll across the room and stomps away in a fury.

“I don’t want it anymore.” she grumbles with each stomp. Coulson shakes his head and wonders how do parents do it.

“Come on Maisie, you have to get up,” he tries. “Let’s wash that juice out of your curls, okay?” The toddler nods, wipes her blotchy cheeks, and stands.

“Okay.”

Coulson picks her up, and sits her on top of the counter in the kitchen. He turns the faucet to warm and asks Maisie to put her hand under.

“Too warm?” he asks. She shakes her head no. The girl lays down on the counter and Coulson runs it through her hair. He watches as tinted purple water goes down the drain but realizes her hair still seems sticky. He looks around to see if anyone else is around, and grabs the dish soap and squirts a teeny bit of the clear orange soap into her hair. Maisie begins to laugh.

“That’s not for hair!” she giggles.

“Shhh” Coulson smiles, “Don’t tell nai nai.”

In the other room, a drowsy Alexander naps on the couch, snoring peacefully to the the titter of the pouring rain. May looks out the window. Doesn’t seem like they'll make it to the park anytime this evening. She turns back around to see a poutful Amelia sitting on the floor, fiddling with the remote. May doesn’t say anything. She turns around and sits on the couch.

“I want to watch tele!” the kindergartner exclaims.

May pretends to look at her watch. “You know it’s after 7 Amy.”

She pouts again and tosses the remote. May gets ready to correct her until the little one mumbles under her breath.

“Maisie always gets what she wants,” Amy pouts. “She _always_ gets what she wants and Alex _always_ get what he wants and I _never_ get what I want.”

May takes a knee next to her and sits crisscross.

“You never get what you want.” May states back to her, not as a question, but as a confirmation. “Never.”

Amelia knows what she’s doing and May can see her mind turning in her wide hazel eyes. She looks down and fiddles with her thumbs.

“Well, not _never_ …” Amy begins. “But not a lot either.”

The girl looks up to meet May in her eyes. As usual, they’re unreadable but warm. May pulls her closer.

“You’ve been a big sister twice now,” May starts softly. “And being a big sister comes with a lot of responsibilities.”

“I didn’t ask to be a big sister.” Amelia retorts quickly. May doesn’t move.

“What would you do if your brother and sister weren’t here?”

Amy stops to think for a moment. “I’d have all of Mummy and Daddy’s attention,” she starts. May hums in agreement. “I wouldn’t have to share my toys.”

She stops speaking for a moment so May fills the silence.

“What else?”

The small girl looks down and crosses her arms. Her long dark curls shake with her head as she comes up with a realization.

“I wouldn’t have no one to play with.”

May smiles at her. “No, you wouldn’t.”

Amelia leans into May’s embrace. Her arms are warm and welcoming and familiar. She likes May. She likes her a lot, even though she doesn’t talk much.

“I’m sorry.” Amelia apologizes. May shifts under her. She takes the girls shoulders in her hands, looks her in the eyes and smiles.

May pushes herself off the floor and tells Amelia to wait there. The 6 year old nods and stays seated and faced forward. Coulson walks into the room, holding Maisie by the hand. The two sisters look at each other and Coulson urges her forward.

Neither one of them says anything, but they move to sit next to each other. Maisie leans onto her older sisters shoulder. Amelia wants to push her off, everyone knows she doesn’t like over affection, but she stays still and leans into her sister, too.

May comes back a matter of minutes later with a stack of copy paper and box of rainbow paints and paint brushes. She sits them on the oak coffee table, and lays out the paper in sets of two. The girls scramble to the brightly tinted colors, quickly pulling out brushes and unscrewing caps. May gives a sly smirk to Coulson and walks towards the kitchen, he eagerly trails after her.

“How on Earth did you manage-”

“I told you, I’m a natural.”

Melinda goes to open up the white wooden cabinets, hand grazing over Jemma’s collection of tea cups. Coulson reaches into the pantry, pulling out a packet of Earl Grey and the jar of coffee grinds. They work around each other in the kitchen with ease, May starting the machine and Coulson bringing the pot of water to a boil. She goes on to mix the ebony liquid with milk and crystal white grains of sugar as he stirs a spoonful of honey into ‘the worlds best grandma’ mug made for her last Christmas. May reaches into the fridge and takes out a bottle, sitting it in the pot of warm water that is left on the counter. Coulson, simultaneously, finishes peeling three oranges and slicing a small batch of strawberries.

They sit down the large plate of fruit in the center of the children's table and lean against the wall on opposite sides of the room. May takes a sip of her tea and Coulson his coffee.

“You put sugar in this, didn’t you?” she questions, taking another sip. Coulson smiles back at her.

“Guilty.”

They continue like this in silence for a while, listening and absorbing every hiccup of laughter from the girls in the other room and the dull sound of the withering rain.

“That Amelia-”

“Takes right after Fitz. Temper and everything. And Maisie-”

“Splitting image of Jemma. They’re also both-”

“Incredibly stubborn.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

May laughs an audible laugh and goes back to drinking her tea.

“Maybe Alex is the good-”

An ear piercing scream erupts from the other room. Coulson inhales sharply and the porcelain mug shatters to the ground. Sticky black coffee splatters onto the minty green and pale white tile counters and floor. Dizzily, Coulson stumbles backwards, knocking over the conveniently placed tubs of flour. He falls to the floor, baking ingredients spread everywhere. May doesn’t pay him any mind, but instead rushes past, black leather boots becoming coated in white powder and warm liquid.

She busts through the double doors to find Alexander, awake and on the floor. She sees him and stops in her tracks. There, he lays on the floor next to his sisters rolling around in laughter, covered in various shades of blue and green paint all the way from his rosy cheeks to his thick, chubby thighs. His sisters, still coated in grape juice and crumbs, roll on the floor with him, every shade of the rainbow smudged all over their outfits and in their beautiful (freshly washed) hair.

Even more, May looks around at the carpet and the walls and the table and the couch.

The brand new pastey grey couch.

All covered in small, butterfly shaped hand prints.

May thinks she’s finally seen it all.

_“What do you think Fitz?” Jemma says, holding up two different color pallets. “Blue or Green?”_

 

_Fitz shrugs. “The kitchen is already green.”_

 

_“Green, grey, and white?”_

 

_He nods._

 

May stands, arms folded and stance tense. The room in the air is thick with the fumes of artificial coloring and must from the rain. She stays silent and watches the horror show from a distance, contemplating what to do next.

It’s Maisie that notices her first. She was turning to her sister, ready to smear a large blob of blue paint onto her baby Brother when she looks up and notices her nai nai’s disapproving shake of her head. The 2 year old's loud, whimsical laughter quickly turned into a quiet, estranged choke. Her shoulders slumped and she hung her head down, only allowing her bright blue eyes to peer through her fluffy hair and up at Melinda.

Amelia is quick to notice the shift in her sisters behavior. She glances and sees May and quickly mimics her sisters demeanor. Even the baby seems to sense the change too for he stops laughing and looks up with wide eyes.

“We’re sorry nai nai.” Maisie cries. Amelia begins to sniffle with tears welling in her eyes too. May walks over and picks the baby up off the floor. He gurgles in delight and kicks his feet playfully. May gives him a small smirk and hold him in her arms, a mixture of colors smearing across her black leather jacket.

“Why don’t you two go in the kitchen and have your snack,” May suggests, never taking her eyes off the life in her arms. “Then we’re going to play the game clean up.”

The both pout and nod their heads slowly, marching one behind the other into the kitchen. May holds the baby out in front of her at arms distance. He still giggles as he looks at her jacket and into her eyes.

“You think this is amusing, don’t you?”

He pushes his tongue against his teeth and gives a foamy smile. May shakes her head and begins making her way towards the nursery, being sure to ignore the brightly splattered furniture and the imaginary voice of Jemma’s shriek when she walks through the front door.

Alexander is mid bath when it becomes suddenly apparent that somehow, Coulson was sitting in the kitchen, flour all over the place and now with _two_ rambunctious children at his side. The realization cause a hiccup to get caught in May’s throat. She hurries and rinses the baby in warm water. His pink skin still tinted with light shades of orange and green.

Good enough.

She reaches over for the yellow fluffy towel and wraps the baby like a burrito. With Alexander under one arm, May rushes into the kitchen and inhales a huge gasp.

Flour.

Everywhere.

No, not _just_ in the spot where Phil fell. It was _everywhere._

On the tables and the counters, in the sink and on the floor, mixed in paint and stuck to the fridge.

_Is that? Is that marinara sauce on the ceiling?_

Flour was everywhere. Mays eyes darted around the room, landing on Coulson. He stood by the oven, covered from his thinning wispy hair to the soles of his black combat boots in sticky, white powder.

And the kids.

As pale as ghosts only to be enhanced with the overwhelming amount of baking ingredients all over their once beautiful, yellow sunflower dresses. Not to mention the grape juice stains, orange crumbs, and wet blue handprints coating the outfits.

Maisie was sitting on the counter, clapping her hands in wild delight and May listened as Coulson, in his terrible Italian accent threw pinches of flour in the air, occasionally tossing some in the face of Amelia, who was pouring a cup of water onto the counter and mixing it with her hands trying to make, pizza crust?

“Phil.” May calls sternly. She watches as his whole body stiffens.

“Oooooooo you’re in troubllllleee,” the girls tease simultaneously. May snaps her head over to them and they immediately look down.

“Come on,” May urges. “It’s time to calm down.”

Coulson nods and helps the girls off the counter one by one. May walks over and presses off on the oven.

“Fix this,” she demands and without another word, leads the girls into the other room, only able to shake her head as they track flour all over the place.

May sits the baby down on the carpet.

 

The once white carpet.

 

The girls each sit next to him. May trudges around the living room through the ever growing amount of dolls and legos looking for the remote.

She finds it under a Mickey Mouse plushie and next to the tub of yellow paint, one of the batteries missing and the other coated in the substance. May tosses it back down. It’s still storming outside so the power is probably out anyways.

With an idea, May sits down on the floor besides the three kids and grabs a couple pieces of discarded paper. She sits one down in front of each of the girls and gives Alexander a nearby teething toy.

May holds up a piece of paper.

“When I was a kid and it was raining, we did a lot of origami,” she explains.

“Gami!” Maisie exclaims. May smiles and nods.

“Do you want me to show you?”

Two excited nods and a babble. May begins to fold the paper up and over, occasionally repeating a few steps. They attempt to make paper cranes and fortune tellers, each filled with little notes and funny fates. They laugh at the ones involving farts and smelly socks. May doesn’t understand why kids find farts so amusing. She laughs along with them anyways.

After awhile, Coulson walks into the room, still covered in dust and pizza sauce and takes a knee on the carpet next to the kids.

“What does nai nai have you doing now?” He questions playfully.

Maisie excitedly holds up her deflated “crane” to Coulson. He looks towards May, eyes filled with affection and love and grabs a piece of paper himself.

“You know my dad really liked cars when I was a kid,” Coulson begins, twisting and folding the white sheet. “But you know, I’ve always enjoyed things that fly just a teeny bit more.”

With that, Coulson holds up a paper airplane and lowers it so the girls can see. Fascinated, they scramble over to him.

“Show me show me!” They shout.

“Wha, we haven’t even gotten to the best part yet!”

Then, Coulson stands and grips the plane tightly in his hand. His arm retracts and releases, all five of them watch as the little blue paper plane soars across the room, looping around in bow ties and dips, before landing gracefully on the coffee table. An eruption of over exaggerated ‘oooo’s and ‘ahhh’s spill from the mentors, followed my excited screaming.

“Again! Again!”

With a wide, toothy grin, Coulson grabs 3 more pieces of the splattered paper and demonstrates how to make them. May stands and brushes off her thighs. She begins to make her way towards the kitchen only for Coulson to hastily call after her.

“Melinda!” He shouts not looking up. The senior woman glances back at him. A sly, guilty smirk plays on his lips. “Don’t kill me.”

May crosses her arms and shakes her head. She begins to walk back over to the couch.

“I don’t even want to know,” she sighs.

After a while, May checks the clock and realizes it’s half past 9. Her eyebrows furrow. The kids were supposed to be in bed a hour and a half ago, and FitzSimmons said they’d be back before 8.

May looks around at the disaster mess of the house, now littered with candy wrappers and fruit snack packets. There was no way they could sleep now.

She stands up and walks to the other side of the living room, takes out her phone, and dials.

The tone rings 3 times before a frantic Jemma answers.

“May! Hello!? Sorry sorry, we- Fitz wait- lost track of time!” Indistinctive sounds of giggling and fumbling and light moaning echo through on the other line. May waits patiently and silently for the noises to cease. Then, out of breath and tone cheerful, Jemma picks back up the phone. “Sorry sorry, we’re on our way back! Fitz, we can’t right n-“

The phone hangs up and May shakes her head. She takes a seat next to Coulson when her phone lights up with a text message.

_It appears there’s a bit of traffic on the road tonight, we won’t make it back for a couple more hours. Sorry. -Fitz_

May looks around at the flour scattered across the wooden floors and tabletops. Her eyes scan the blue handprints on the walls and white furniture. She stares at the ever growing village of toys that somehow manages to get larger with every glance, yet she stops and watches as Amelia and Maisie throw paper planes with their sticky fingers to Coulson, who holds Alexander in his arms, cooing and smiling at the delightful sound of the colorful laughter pouring from the kids and filing the house.  
  
May doesn’t know if she can take a few more hours of this, but she can’t help but smile anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta-ed. Comments and feedback mean the world. queensimmons on tumblr


End file.
